Camisado
by Taywen
Summary: AU: Nick is a seasoned Grimm and Renard is a young exiled prince who wants the Grimm for his own. / Fifteen times Renard asked Nick for help and the one time he didn't have to. Nick/teenage!Renard. Mild dub-con, underage, general crackiness.


Disclaimer: Grimm doesn't belong to me, not making any money or anything like that.

Warnings: Underage (teenager!Renard), mild dub-con, general crackiness.

Written for the prompt on grimm_kink - Nick is a seasoned Grimm and Renard is a young exiled prince who wants the Grimm for his own.

* * *

><p>Camisado<br>or, 15 Times Renard Asked Nick For Help and the 1 Time He Didn't Have To

* * *

><p>1.<br>Nick has learned that it's a mistake to make assumptions or have expectations when he's doing his Grimm work, but even he is thrown when he breaks up a fight between a hot-headed Jagerbar and a smaller teenager and finds himself staring at a crown.

"Your assistance is appreciated, but unnecessary," the royal tells him haughtily, staring down his nose like Nick is the rascal with a probably-broken nose and what will become a spectacular shiner for a left eye. Also there's blood between his teeth, from a nasty split lip.

"Right. I should have seen the other guy-? Oh, wait," Nick says sarcastically, though the Jagerbar has already left. As soon as he saw the Grimm, he'd run off. Without the hulking form of the Jagerbar as a frame of reference, he realizes that the prince is the same height than Nick himself. Leaner, though - the Grimm would hesitate to describe the boy as lanky, but he isn't particularly muscular.

The prince sniffs disdainfully then manfully tries to hide his wince. Definitely broken nose, Nick notes. "You're a Grimm, aren't you?" he continues, studying Nick intently.

"Only on days that end in y," he mutters, crossing his arms to show that he is Not Impressed with the posturing.

"I have a need for your services - I assure you, you'll be rewarded handsomely-"

"No thanks," Nick interrupts, hoping to nip this whole thing in the bud. "I don't 'contract out' or whatever you want to call it. People don't bother me, I don't bother them." He keeps his tone civil, but firm. No point in raising the kid's hopes only to dash them later.

"What- You're not even going to hear me out?" the prince stammers. "I am a prince."

"Hey, you just got beaten up by a Jagerbar. Me not listening cannot be worse than that," Nick points out, politely. He glances at his watch and bites back a curse. "Look, do what you need to do, try not to piss off any more Jagerbars, whatever. It's none of my business, just don't make any trouble," Nick tells him, already turning away.

The prince splutters something, but Nick ignores him and climbs back into his car. He's late for dinner with Juliette.

* * *

><p>2.<br>A few days later, on one of Nick's exceedingly rare days off, some jackass decides to ring the buzzer repeatedly at like eight in the morning until Nick can't ignore it anymore and stomps to the door to answer. (Now he knows what Monroe feels like.)

"What?" he snarls at the offender. And then does a double-take when he realizes it's that prince, lip healed and black eye fading.

The prince smirks back, self-assurance restored (to the point of cockiness). "Out of all those associated with the supernatural world living in Portland, you're the one most qualified to host a prince..."

"It's eight in the morning, and I'm usually gone by now so you must have known it was my day off, yet you decided to come calling anyway. Please point out at what point I'm supposed to actually give a damn about anything you have to say," Nick grits out.

Just as the prince opens his mouth (after a few moments of blessed, stunned silence) Nick slams the door in his face, and pointedly locks the deadbolt for good measure.

* * *

><p>3.<br>The prince is sitting on his couch when Nick gets home the next day, looking so smug that Nick is tempted to black his other eye, minor or not.

"Nick, this is Renard," Juliette says, in that tone she always uses to butter him up to something. Sweet, earnest and just the right amount of widened eyes.

Usually she just wants him to put up with the pathetic-looking strays she finds, not infuriatingly persistent princes.

"We've met," Nick says, settling for deadpan because if he tries for civil he knows he will fail.

"It's true, he played quite the dashing hero..." the prince - Renard - agrees with a smirk that Juliette can't see.

"He does do that, doesn't he," Juliette agrees, nodding.

"Yeah, yeah, spare me," Nick complains, waving a hand impatiently. He tries to fix Juliette with his 'don't play around with me' glare but she won't meet his eyes.

Nick's always thought that if he hadn't been gay, he would have gotten together with Juliette long ago, but that was before he realized she was in league with the person who was fast becoming the bane of his existence.

"Anyway, Nick, Renard doesn't have a place to stay and since Hank moved out last month, I thought he could stay in the third bedroom, just until he gets back on his feet," Juliette concludes, like this is the most logical solution in the world.

Which it really, really isn't, by the way.

"Wait, how did you two even meet?" Nick demands suspiciously.

"I found Renard wandering around in the lobby - he said he wanted to thank you for the other day, so I thought I'd let him stay here until you came home," Juliette explains.

"Yes- thank you so much for your help," Renard agrees, and Nick would almost believe he was earnest except for that damn smug smirk.

"I still don't understand how that translated into him staying - _possibly_staying - with us," Nick says, staring at the teenager intently.

"Oh, Nick, you don't have to be so suspicious. I got the whole story out of him - you don't mind if I tell him, do you, Renard?" she asks, actually _asks_instead of dictating to him like she has been doing to Nick.

Renard, the slimy little bastard, actually looks down at the hands he has conveniently clasped in his lap in a laughable demonstration of bashfulness. "I guess not..."

"It's awful, Nick! His family kicked him out because he's gay, can you believe it?"

"I can't," Nick agrees, flatly. Though it does occur to him that he has no real idea _why_there's a young prince slumming it in Portland. Not that he cares, of course.

"So you agree?" Juliette asks.

"I still think this is a bad idea. There's shelters or the CAF," Nick insists.

"Maybe you're forgetting that it's _my_name on the lease, not yours," the redheaded demoness says warningly.

"Look, Miss Silverton-"

"I told you to call me Juliette, Renard," Juliette says patiently, giving him a maternal smile. Nick remembers when she used to look at him like that. It irks him more than it should that she has apparently moved on.

"Juliette," Renard repeats dutifully. "I don't want to cause friction between the two of you... I'm sure I'll figure something out."

The little rat even bites his lip and looks away after that! Nick knows his mouth is hanging open in obvious disbelief but he can't do anything about it.

"Nonsense," Juliette says brusquely. "How can you say no to helping someone as adorable as Renard, Nick?" she implores.

On the word 'help', Renard finally slips and looks directly at Nick.

"Well if you're so adamant... I don't see how I can refuse," Nick hedges. "In fact, tomorrow's Saturday, isn't it? I'll take Renard around town to look for a part-time job."

It's Nick's turn to turn a triumphant gaze on the prince as Juliette enthusiastically agrees. He almost loses it when he sees the look on the prince's face, but years of controlling his reaction to seeing the 'true' face of supernatural creatures save him.

* * *

><p>4.<br>Nick's in a good humour, having convinced Juliette to join their job-hunting efforts. With her around, Renard will be forced to continue his charade and actually attempt to get a job.

"Actually," Juliette remarks, twisting around to converse with the sullen (but pretending not to be) prince in the backseat of Nick's SUV. "There's an opening at my clinic - we go through a lot of kids."

Renard brightens slightly, probably viewing this as a good way to further his agenda by influencing Nick's roommate. "What is it that you do?" he asks with interest.

Nick keeps an eye on the rear-view mirror, not wanting to miss the prince's reaction when he realizes what this 'opening' entails.

"Hmmm, cleaning cages, walking the dogs, maybe washing a pet or two..." Juliette lists off cheerfully.

At Renard's poorly-disguised look of horror, Nick can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him, which he turns into a cough before Juliette can get annoyed. He meets Renard's pleading look without sympathy - the prince won't be getting help from him, even in something like this.

"Do you work at a veterinary clinic, Juliette?" Renard asks slowly, interrupting the redhead's monologue about how great a job it would be, high turn-over rate notwithstanding.

"Oh- yes. Sorry, I thought I'd told you," Juliette answers, oblivious.

"I... don't think that would work out," the prince says sadly. "I'm allergic, you know..."

"That's too bad," Juliette laments, pouting slightly. "Oh, well. Hey, Nick, do you think we can stop at a furniture store - Renard needs a bed, at the very least."

Nick suppresses a shudder. Shopping with Juliette. He's suddenly regretting... No, not as much as Renard is, surely. The thought spurs him on.

* * *

><p>5.<br>After trying to decipher the deceptively simple instructions for hours to construct Renard's new bed (at Juliette's behest because _no way in hell_would he have agreed otherwise) Nick fell into his own bed and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Nick!" Someone shakes him awake, and the Grimm sits up with a jerk, blinking wildly in the semi-darkness. Juliette leaves the bathroom light on, so there's some illumination spilling in through the partially-open door, but Nick is still disoriented.

"I need your help," the intruder continues, sounding panicked. "Say you'll help me!"

"Who-? ... Renard!" Nick snaps, then immediately lowers his tone. No need to wake Juliette, she'd probably just side with the stupid teenager anyway, unrepentant traitor that she is. "Seriously? It's-" he glances at the digital clock on his nightstand, "-two in the morning!" he groans in frustration.

"Just say yes, and I'll leave you to snore in peace," Renard assures him with a smirk, casually sitting on the edge of Nick's bed like he owns the place and isn't an ungrateful little freeloader.

"I do not-!" Nick heaves an aggravated sigh, running one hand through his sleep-mussed hair in an attempt to calm himself. "No, ok? Damn it, leave me alone!" he hisses, kicking out at Renard like he's the one who's a sulky teenager.

"I'll get you to say yes one way or another," Renard promises calmly.

"Great. Get the hell out of my room," Nick grumbles, burying his face in his pillow.

* * *

><p>6.<br>Nick supposes he deserves it, since he's the one who suggested Renard get a part-time job in the first place, but he gets to be the one who picks the teenager up at the end of his shifts.

And if Nick shows up a little early to gloat - er, provide support - then he deserves that too, right?

Despite it being only his second shift, Renard has already adopted that mindless stare that is universal among cashiers who work at the job for any length of time. He doesn't even pretend to smile, instead fixing his customers with a faintly disapproving look every time one of them comes to his till. Nick is almost impressed - usually he only sees that in the most veteran of cashiers.

"Hey, Renard," he says with a grin that Hank affectionately terms 'shit-eating'. Nick prefers to think of it as ruthless. "Nice uniform."

The prince is visibly startled to find Nick in front of him, but he soon recovers and begins ringing Nick's three items up as slowly as possible. "Thanks," he says with as much dignity as he can manage, which is to say none.

"Purple _is_the colour of royalty," Nick adds gleefully.

Renard's jaw clenches, but he otherwise doesn't react. "Your total's five fifty-two," he says, coolly.

Nick pays for it, then takes pity on the kid and stops harassing him after that.

He hangs around just outside the doors, occasionally glancing at his watch. What is taking the brat so long-? Sure, Nick was an ass back there - not that Renard didn't totally deserve it - but the sooner he leaves the sooner he can change out of that hideous uniform.

The automatic door finally slides open, releasing the prince. Though Nick doesn't immediately recognize him, hidden behind a massive box and several bags piled on top. The whole thing looks rather precarious.

"Can you help-?" Renard asks, swaying hilariously in an attempt to keep the pile from falling.

"No," Nick says automatically, already reaching out to grab the bags. The prince looks surprised, again, but it passes. "Man, what's in here?" He peers into one of them curiously as they walk back to his SUV.

"Groceries and other stuff," Renard mutters. "The owner heard Juliette talking and felt sorry for me. Apparently I really am 'adorable'." His eyes widen in horror as he realizes what he just said.

"Awww, poor baby fox," Nick coos, placing the junk in the backseat.

"Shut your mouth," Renard snaps, the first time he has been actively rude to Nick rather than just inconsiderate. There's a flush climbing up his neck, whether from embarrassment or anger, Nick isn't entirely sure.

He has to agree, it is rather adorable.

To punish himself for thinking that, Nick drives home in silence rather than continuing to rib the prince.

* * *

><p>7.<br>Weeks pass, with Nick (to his horror, upon realization) becoming accustomed to sharing an apartment with a prince who is passive-aggressively trying to get him to agree to help him with - Nick still doesn't know, and has no intention of finding out, to be honest.

The realization comes when he's only mildly surprised to suddenly wake up to find Renard in his room (again), demanding his help.

"The answer's still no," Nick mutters, before turning his back to the prince and going right back to sleep.

* * *

><p>8.<br>One day, his office phone rings. Not exactly a rare occurrence, to be sure. Nick answers it with his usual brusque, "Detective Burkhardt."

"Please tell me you'll help me, Detective," a panicked, breathy voice implores. "You're the only one I can go to-"

"-Renard?" Nick interrupts suspiciously. "Is that you?" And he's horrified to find that, rather than being pissed off that the prince is calling him at work, he's rather amused by this latest attempt.

"... Damn it," the prince swears, dropping the pretence.

"Tell me you haven't been practicing that damsel-in-distress voice," Nick snickers, unable to contain himself.

"I'm hanging up now, you _insufferable_Grimm," Renard informs him haughtily.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Nick replies, chuckling.

* * *

><p>9.<br>Several months after Renard weaseled his way into Nick's - sorry, _Juliette's_, it's her name on the lease - apartment, the prince starts following him around when he's doing his Grimm work. Nick puts up a protest, but as always the prince doggedly ignores it.

And there are some (very, very rare!) times when he's actually grateful the prince does so. Like right now.

"You're surprisingly diplomatic and understanding of different creatures' issues," Renard observes, deadpan, as he holds out a hand for Nick to take.

The Grimm groans and grabs it without thinking, letting the deceptively slender teen pull him to his feet. "Where'd they go-?" He blinks up at Renard, wondering when the prince had grown taller than him. He hadn't even noticed before.

"That way," Renard supplies, pointing. "And then they got into a car and drove off. Before you ask, no, I couldn't see the license plate. All I saw was a dark sedan." His eyes are narrowed angrily, and the crown that Nick knows is there but rarely sees - much like other supernatural creatures' faces - seated on his brow is visible. Upset, then.

"Well, ok," Nick mutters, gingerly touching the back of his head. Oh, yeah - there's going to be a huge bump there tomorrow. Great.

"And I thought you told me not to pick fights with Jagerbars," Renard continues.

"Then I guess we're even for that one time," Nick says, a bit fuzzy on the details because he hit his head _really_ hard, but he does seem to recall a familiar-yet-foreign voice, suffused with authority, ordering the Jagerbars that attacked him to _back off_.

Renard huffs, his crown disappearing and posture relaxing. "Even? There were three of them. I think you owe me, now. And in the interest of cashing in favours owed-"

"Nice try," Nick interrupts, trying to pat the prince consolingly on the shoulder and ending up patting him rather hard on the cheek instead. "... You know how to drive, right?" he adds uncertainly, because his head is throbbing and it's a little bit hard to think right now.

"I don't have a license, if that's what you're asking," Renard says, even as he sticks a hand in Nick's pocket to grab his keys.

"Hey," Nick hisses, jerking away instinctively. Damn princes and their sense of entitlement and complete lack of understanding concerning the concept of personal space.

"Don't arrest me," Renard says sarcastically, leading him over to his SUV.

"See if I don't," Nick complains, in what is definitely not a whine. He slumps against the window, pressing the cool glass against his forehead. "... Thanks, Renard," he mutters at length.

The prince huffs again, glancing over at him for a brief second before looking back at the road. "Don't mention it," he snarks.

* * *

><p>10.<br>It's been almost a year since Renard came to Portland - not that Nick's been keeping track or anything. He's resigned himself to being stuck with the prince for the foreseeable future. He can't even complain about Renard following him around when he has Grimm work, since the prince _is_as asset.

"I want to apply for college, but I need someone to sign my application," Renard begins shyly over the dinner table. Nick wonders, sometimes, how Juliette still hasn't seen through him. "Usually it's a parent or guardian, but you're a police officer and apparently that's good too..."

"Oh, where are you applying?" Juliette asks.

"Washington University," the teenager tells her, sliding the sheet across the table to Nick.

The Grimm pauses, absently gnawing on his fork as he skims the application. On one hand, he wants to sign it because it could mean less of Renard in his life. On the other, this _is _Renard.

"You just have to sign at the bottom," the prince in question points out helpfully. "And that's really a horrible habit, your teeth won't be thanking you in twenty years," he adds, earning himself a nod of approval from Juliette.

"Uh-huh, yeah," Nick says with exactly the amount of attention he gives to the warning when Juliette gives it. Maybe even a little less, if that's possible."Sorry, Renard, but it looks like you got the wrong thing. This is a _contract_of some sort, not an application." He fixes the prince with a disappointed stare.

Renard, for the most part, looks unrepentant - apart from the embarrassed reddening of his neck. At this point Nick has given up telling himself he doesn't find it attractive and resigned himself to the fact that he is doomed no matter what.

"Oh, is it?" the prince asks, snatching it back before Juliette can get a good look at it.

"Really?" Nick asks later as they settle down to watch a movie, Juliette in the bathroom. "Resorting to shady contracts in an attempt to get my help? That's a new low, even for you." He shakes his head sadly.

Renard scowls at him and doesn't deign to reply, instead leaning over to steal the remote.

* * *

><p>11.<br>The bathroom door bangs open. "Nick, I need y- Oh God, are you jacking off?"

"Get out!" Nick does not shriek; he shouts in a manly fashion. Yeah.

And he's sinking to new lows of depravity too, apparently. When he comes, it's to an imagined (and much more accommodating) Renard gasping, "Nick, I need you-!"

* * *

><p>12.<br>It's a testament to how pathetic his life has become that Nick doesn't even blink when he wakes up to find Renard studying him intently.

"Five more minutes," he mutters, before the prince can even open his mouth, wrapping the blankets more tightly around himself and sticking his head under the pillow.

* * *

><p>13.<br>Nick's sure he had a good reason to barge into Renard's room - payback for all the times the self-centred prince just ignored all concepts of _Nick's_personal space, or some other sensible thing like that.

Sadly, those reasons all decided to jump ship the second he lays eyes on the naked teen leisurely masturbating on his bed.

"Uh, I'll come back later," Nick stammers, desperately looking at Renard's face - only his face. Not his incredibly appealing lean muscles or the curve of his hip or-

Right. Face.

Renard arches an eyebrow, and it's impossible to tell if he's embarrassed because he was already flushed. Nick now knows what the prince looks like when he's turned on and- He needs to leave.

"Or you could give me a hand with..?" The prince trails off, leaving it open. Obviously a trap, but it takes him longer to refuse that it really should.

"N-no thanks," and Nick's voice totally did not break because he's not a hormonal teenager, damn it. He beats a hasty retreat, slamming the door behind him.

And then Nick goes for a long walk because he isn't sure what he'd do if he stayed in an apartment where he knows Renard is jacking off.

Juliette is home when he gets back, and Nick is relieved because her presence is probably the only thing stopping (a fully-clothed) Renard from doing more than smirk knowingly at him, the smug bastard.

* * *

><p>14.<br>In the weeks that follow, Nick gradually relaxes. Besides the occasional smirk or offhand comment, Renard doesn't bring up what happened - because nothing happened, Nick sternly tells himself, it was just Renard trying to up the ante and get Nick to say yes.

Regardless, Nick lets his guard down because Renard seems disinclined to pursue it any further.

Clearly, he was overestimating the prince's sense of decency and fair play.

Nick is used to waking up to find Renard lurking in his room or nearby, so maybe that's part of the problem, but he relaxes marginally when he realizes the (naked) person straddling his hips is Renard.

And then the rest of his brain gets with the program (it's _Renard_) and he starts freaking out.

"Really? You're trying to _seduce_me?" Nick demands, except it comes out kind of breathless. It's not his fault, really; it's been hectic at work these last few weeks (months), and he still has to pick Renard up all the time, and keep up with Grimm issues - there's not a lot of time for sex. Any hand other than his own is welcome on his cock especially since he's been fantasizing about the prince almost obsessively, except when it's really, really not.

Renard smirks down at him, the white of his teeth flashing in a truly predatory manner. Nick bites through his lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape. "I'm not _trying_," he says, so smug that Nick wants to kiss that look right off his face, wreck his stupidly perfect hair and make him breathless with need-

So. Not. Helping. "Semantics," Nick snaps, but loses his train of thought when Renard strokes him just the right side of roughly. Nick's hips jerk up entirely of their own accord, much to his displeasure. "Stop it," he insists, and it takes more effort than he's willing to admit to make himself grab the teenager's wrist.

That's right, Renard is a teenager, a _minor_, and a prince and there are many, many reasons why this is a bad idea even if Nick can't seem to think of them right now.

"This doesn't feel like 'stop' to me," Renard counters, pressing his other hand into Nick's shoulder and leaning on it to keep the Grimm on his back.

"What if Juliette hears," Nick hisses, tugging weakly on Renard's wrist. Understandably, he's reluctant to use too much force.

"She's away at that conference," Renard reminds him, and when Nick opens his mouth to give yet another reason why this is a Bad Idea, the prince drags his thumb almost roughly over the slit of Nick's cock.

"Guh. Stop that," Nick protests (weakly), trying to stop himself from pushing into Renard's hand. God, he has such long fingers-

Bad. Idea. Nick raises his other hand and pushes, hard, against Renard's shoulder. The prince rolls off, laughing softly. That, more than anything else (which is pretty messed up) pisses Nick off. "Is this some kind of game to you?" he demands, glaring at the boy- young man- at the stupid prince lounging casually next to him.

Nick can see Renard smirking, the strip of light coming in through the partially-open door illuminating a section of the prince's chest and the lower part of his face.

The Grimm pushes onward, not waiting for answer. "I don't know what your problem is - do you think it's ok to do- this!" Nick gestures broadly, encompassing the both of them. "Just to get me to say yes?"

Renard tilts his head, lips turning downward in the angry scowl that Nick has seen more than a few times. "I didn't even ask," he says coldly, so coldly. The only time Nick has heard that tone is when he's verbally assaulting other members of the supernatural world, and never has it been directed at him. "That's not-!" His mouth closes with an audible snap, jaw clenching as he turns his head away.

"Then, please, explain to me what this is," Nick says sarcastically.

Renard inhales sharply, glaring at him. "Never mind," he snaps, cold and dismissive. "You're so damn blind, sometimes. Point you at a crime scene and you'll have it all figured out within minutes, but- Just, never mind." He rises abruptly and stalks out of Nick's room.

A moment later, Nick hears the door across the hall slam shut, and the softer but no less final click of the lock.

He slumps back against his pillow with a low groan, grinding the heel of his palm against his left eye like that can somehow erase the images from his mind.

* * *

><p>15.<br>Nick's already having a bad day when he gets to work more than an hour late. There was a bad car accident, causing a traffic jam, and things just went downhill from there.

There are two messages waiting for him on his voicemail. Nick settles into his chair to listen to them.

The first is from Renard, and usually he'd just hang up on principle (especially given how they've been avoiding each other lately), but something about the prince's tone makes him listen.

"Nick, it's Renard," the recording begins, Renard's voice calm in a manner that Nick knows is unnatural and forced. "I think you should come home. I need your help; there's a rodent infestation-" a sharp sound can be heard, which Nick takes a few seconds to identify as a slap, "-well, you'll see when you come home," Renard finishes, sounding pissed.

"Might want to hurry - Juliette left her bag at home so she'll probably-" Renard adds urgently, but not fast enough. The message cuts off before he can finish.

The next, about fifteen minutes later, is from Juliette. She sounds a combination of fearful and pissed off.

"Nick... don't even... think about telling anyone... else about this," Juliette says slowly, and in the background he can hear someone dictating for her to repeat. "If you don't... call back in an hour... I'll - _sorry, he_-" Juliette corrects scathingly, making Nick grin in spite of everything, "-will hurt us."

"Us being Juliette and me," Renard clarifies loudly from somewhere close by, sarcastic. "So you'd better come help!"

"Don't- Don't hurt him!" Juliette protests, fear overcoming the anger in her tone as Nick hears a man swearing and Renard taunting him. That's the end of the message.

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose, mind racing as he considers his options. Rodent infestation, Renard said. Was he implying that this... hostage situation was Grimm-related? That's Nick's first instinct, and he usually goes with it.

But the only rodent-like creature that comes to Nick's mind is a Reinegen, and he's sure he hasn't offended any lately. Certainly not to the point that they would retaliate like this, anyway. That doesn't mean he wouldn't find something else that fits the bill if he took a look through his aunt's journals, or gave Monroe a call...

He doesn't even know what they want. Nick exhales slowly and picks up the receiver, dialling the apartment's number from memory.

An unfamiliar man answers on the first ring. "Who is this?" he demands.

"It's Burkhardt," Nick says, in his pacifying cop voice.

"Come back to the apartment, alone, and we won't hurt your friends," the man says threateningly, and it's so cliché that Nick has to bite back the (slightly hysterical) urge to laugh.

"How do I know you haven't hurt them already?" Nick questions, casually casting a glance around the room to see if anyone is in earshot. No one.

"You'll have to take my word for it."

"Let me talk to one of them," Nick insists.

Silence, apart from the man's heavy breathing. Nick wonders how this is his life, sometimes. Then there's a fumbling sound and Juliette comes on the line.

"Nick? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you ok?" he says in a soothing tone.

"I'm fine," Juliette says, like she's trying not to come across as too hysterical. "But Renard's unconscious..."

"He never does know when to keep his mouth shut," Nick remarks, tamping down on the worry that threatens to rise up.

"You're awful," Juliette informs him, sounding torn between amusement and exasperation which is what he was going for.

"Yeah. I'll see you soon," he assures her.

"Bye, Nick."

"Satisfied, Grimm?" the man demands a moment later.

"Not quite," Nick says slowly. "I want you to let them go when I get there."

"Fine," the man snaps. "You'd better leave now. And don't tell anyone, either!"

"I won't," Nick assures him, and then puts the receiver down when he hears the other man hang up.

Nick makes some excuse to his boss, waving Hank's concern away when his partner looks like he might ask questions. "I just don't feel good," he lies. "Renard cooked dinner last night, and I thought Juliette was going to murder me if I didn't finish what was on my plate."

Hank snorts, having listened to Nick bemoan having to deal with the teen numerous times. "Yeah, yeah. Go home and get some rest."

Nick goes home. The drive is a combination of agonizingly slow and far too quick - by the time he reaches the apartment, he still hasn't come up with any alternatives. He has the knife he keeps tucked away on his person, and his gun, but he doesn't imagine he'll be able to use them. He doesn't even know how many people will be there.

He feels like an idiot knocking on the door of his own suite, but at least no one else on the floor will be home to investigate - they all have day jobs.

The door opens as far as the chain will allow and a shorter man peers out suspiciously.

Nick tries to be as non-threatening as possible, hands loose at his sides.

"Give me your gun," the man orders, his face momentarily morphing into something that Nick could loosely call a weasel.

"Ok," Nick says agreeably, slowly reaching for his holster. He hands it over, barrel pointed at the floor. The man takes it, suspicious eyes never leaving him.

The weasel creature ushers him inside, locking the dead bolt and chain behind him.

The living room's in disarray, Nick notices absently. There are two other creatures, both of them standing near Juliette and Renard. Juliette is sitting quietly, her face pale. As she said, Renard seems to be unconscious, his head pillowed in her lap.

"... You said you'd let them go," Nick remarks carefully.

"And you believed us!" jeers the tallest weasel.

Nick frowns slightly. "I did everything you told me to," he points out evenly.

"Yeah, because I threatened your girlfriend!" the first creature snaps. "You Grimms don't give a damn about our families but if someone threatens yours..."

"Is that what this is about? I've never even seen one of - whatever you are - before," Nick protests. "I don't go around hurting innocent-"

"You're lying!" The short man has a surprisingly strong punch, considering his small frame. Nick staggers back, hand flying to his jaw. He's had worse, but he wasn't expecting the blow. Juliette makes a soft noise, but he doesn't spare her a glance. He's (reasonably) sure that they won't hurt her.

"Get on your knees." The weasel's pointing Nick's own gun at him. It would be a bit more impressive if his hand wasn't shaking and he didn't look half-terrified, but cornered animals are far more dangerous, so Nick does as he's told.

"Wes-" the third weasel protests, speaking up for the first time. "You said it was him that killed your family. But he seems like he's telling the truth!"

"You think he'll just let us go after this?" the second weasel sneers.

"I would, actually," Nick puts in. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Shut up!" the short weasel shouts. Nick shuts up.

"C'mon, Wes. I was talking to some of the creatures here and they said he's not that bad," the third weasel insists.

"All Grimms are the same," the first weasel snarls. "Maybe he's tricked them but I won't fall for it!" He flicks the safety off, and Nick is starting to feel really nervous.

"Don't-" Juliette protests, panicking.

"Shut up!" the weasel repeats, pointing the gun at Juliette. The two other weasels dart aside, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

Nick hesitates, torn between seizing the advantage and tackling the rodent or staying put and not risking Juliette's safety any further.

Apparently satisfied with her silence, the weasel turns back to Nick. "Maybe you didn't kill my family," he says slowly, calmly. Somehow, Nick isn't reassured. "But I bet you've killed others." His hand steadies, his eyes disturbingly blank as he seems to reach his decision.

"**Stop**."

Everything freezes. Nick sees movement out of the corner of his eye, but it takes him a long moment to release his breath and turn to look.

Renard's standing, helping Juliette to her feet. She clearly has no idea what's going on. Nick's a bit hazy on the details himself.

"Well, don't just sit there," Renard says, exasperated. "Take your gun back!"

Nick's too confused to protest, until he isn't. "You were unconscious," he says slowly.

"Faking," Renard replies airily.

"And you didn't think to use your royal compulsion thing earlier?" Nick waves his hand wildly, maybe to indicate the weasels, maybe the room at large, or the whole situation. He doesn't even know.

"I thought it was Juliette coming back for her bag so I opened the door without checking," Renard explains reluctantly, embarrassed. "That one-" he jerks his chin at the tallest weasel, "-had a gun and threatened to shoot me if I tried anything."

"So who was it that I heard mouthing off to these weasels?" Nick demands.

"Well, me." Renard shrugs, ignoring the 'are you kidding me you damn brat' look that Nick gives him. "Nice job distracting them, by the way."

"This was your plan the whole time!"

"More or less."

"Thanks for the head's up," Nick mutters.

"Wait, what are you two even talking about?" Juliette demands, head swivelling as she looks from Nick to Renard and back again. "Royal what? And weasels, really? What kind of insult is that, Nick."

"Uh, Renard, you want to take this one?" Nick says, glancing at the still-as-statues weasels in question.

"Busy," the prince says. He steps up to the second weasel and starts talking quietly. Nick can't hear the words, but he does feel more than hear the authority with which Renard speaks them.

"Well, Nick?" Juliette's glaring at him, like whatever explanation he has had better be good.

Nick doesn't gulp nervously in the face of that. And then he tries to explain as best he can, with Renard chipping in once he sends the weasels packing.

He isn't entirely sure he deserves the slap in the face that she gives him once they're done explaining, but at least she chooses his uninjured cheek. And it helps that she slaps Renard just as hard afterward.

* * *

><p>&amp;1.<br>"Yes," Nick says, seemingly out of the blue.

Renard slants a glance at him, wondering what is going on in the Grimm's head. After the whole hostage fiasco, things between them have been closer to normal - not as stiff as they were after that disastrous night (he doesn't even want to think about that) but not as easy as it had been before that.

And now, random utterances. Renard wonders what it can all mean. They're watching some show on TLC that Juliette enjoys, and even though she isn't there now it's more of an ingrained habit than anything. Renard is pretty sure that Nick isn't talking about what they're watching, though.

"What?" he asks, blankly. Oh, if his parents could hear him now. 'Slumming it', so to speak, has been a terrible influence on his vocabulary and manners.

"Yes," the Grimm repeats again, like that should clear everything up. Renard is tempted to say so, but they're not quite back at the sarcastic banter stage yet and he doesn't want to push it. "Whatever you wanted me to help you with, I'll do it."

Renard stares at him, knowing his mouth is agape and unable to stop it. (Don't gawk like a _commoner_, his mother would reprimand. Edging on two years away from them and he can still hear her voice, clear as day.) "I have your word?" he asks, slowly, falling back on the more formal cadences of his parents' court. Because, yeah, for more than a year now he's been trying to get the Grimm's help but it was more the principle of the matter than any expectation that Nick would actually consent. He liked thinking up new ways to try and trick the Grimm.

Nick's shoulders are tense for a moment as he stares intently at the wall beside Renard's head. "... You do," he says, finally, looking at Renard fully.

Renard grins, enjoying the momentary look of apprehension in Nick's gaze. "Great," he says, an understatement. And then he waits, because he enjoys watching Nick squirm.

The Grimm licks his lips. "What, uh, what did you want me to do, anyway?" he asks.

"Oh, nothing too strenuous, for a Grimm of your talents." Renard raises his eyebrows suggestively. Nick never _did_hear him out, and by now Renard wants much more than what he originally intended. He won't be satisfied with something... lesser.

"You don't want me to kill anyone, do you?" Nick questions warily.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" Renard drawls.

And somehow, the Grimm just gets it. "Stop jerking me around, Renard," he complains. "What do you want me to do?"

Renard can think of many things that he wants Nick to do. "Just this," he says, fisting a hand in Nick's shirt and pulling him closer before he can over think this.

"Wha-" Nick starts to question, startled, but Renard presses his advantage and licks his way into the Grimm's mouth before he can protest without so much as a by-your-leave.

He's half-expecting Nick to push him away and make up some stupid excuses like he did last time Renard tried this. (In retrospect, maybe it wasn't best to just climb into Nick's bed like that.)

But after a second or two Nick's the one taking control of the kiss, and how dare he, Renard is the prince not-

He pulls back, panting slightly. Nick follows before checking himself and leaning back. Ha.

"You kind of lost me," Nick says after a few seconds. "You're telling me you came to Portland just to get a kiss from me?"

"I came to get your consent," Renard corrects him, grinning.

"Oh, that clears everything up," Nick grumbles. "Explain, you brat."

Renard shrugs. "What do you know about the royalty?" he asks in lieu of explaining. No point in giving the Grimm information he already knows.

Nick's brow creases in confusion, but he goes along with it. "They rule over the creatures... Don't like to mingle too much with the human world, beyond what's necessary... They have almost complete control over creatures, less so over regular humans and their commands have little to no effect on Grimms," he lists off. All of which is technically true, but not really what Renard was looking for.

"They age more slowly than most, upon reaching maturity," Nick adds. "And they're not very fertile?"

"You quoted that directly out of your Grimm history books, didn't you." Renard smirks.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that," the Grimm says defensively. "What's the point of this history lesson, anyway?" he demands.

"Besides demonstrating your ignorance?" Renard teases, earning himself an annoyed scoff. "There's only records of royalty overseas, right? Europe, Asia, Africa... Everywhere else is beyond their influence."

"That's true," Nick concedes.

"There are certain... requirements for a royal to, ah, ascend," Renard explains. "Like you said, once we reach maturity, we age very slowly. There aren't many children, either, and it's rare for a couple to conceive more than one child. That keeps things in balance, no unnecessary conflicts over inheritance or territory, things like that."

"Why am I sensing a 'but' in all this?" Nick muses.

Renard grins. "_But_I do have an older brother, and as it would happen all eligible princesses are spoken for. There isn't even a kingdom without any heirs at the moment."

"Wow. That's... pretty convenient, actually." Nick shakes his head.

"No arguments there," Renard agrees wryly. Marrying a princess was never particularly high on his priorities, for more reasons than one. "But then there was the question of what I was going to do. A prince couldn't very well just get some mundane job." He looks at Nick pointedly.

"Guess you're the exception to the rule," Nick retorts, grinning. "But why come to Portland, of all places?"

"I heard there was a Grimm here," Renard confesses. "Like I said, I wanted - ok, needed - your help."

"Yeah, explain how a kiss does all that, again?" Nick looks at him expectantly.

"I don't know how much basis this has in fact, but according to the history books, Grimms are descended from dalliances between humans and royalty," Renard explains.

"Dalliances, really? You do know this is the twenty-first century," Nick snarks, then seems to realize what Renard just said. "... Seriously?"

"That's how the story goes, anyway. It would explain your ability to see creatures and resist royal influence."

"I- yeah, I guess it would," Nick agrees slowly, blinking. "So what does this have to do with you wanting my help?"

"The requirements for establishing a new kingdom is a partnership between two royals."

"Wait, you really did want to get in my pants this whole time?" Nick blurts out, then - for the first time that Renard has ever seen - flushes in embarrassment.

He doesn't bother hiding his smirk. "I said partnership, not union," he retorts. "Since you already rule Portland-"

"I don't _rule_it," Nick protests, because he's humble and earnest like that.

"-it's not a stretch that I could form a _partnership_with you and establish my own kingdom based on that fact."

"So, why is it your kingdom, again? If I rule Portland - your words, not mine! - then shouldn't it be my kingdom. Why do I have to be the queen?"

"We could separate it into principalities, if you'd like. I get North America, you get Portland," Renard offers in as reasonable a tone as he can manage. The look on Nick's face makes him start laughing almost immediately, though.

"All of North America?" Nick asks sulkily, offended. "Is that even fair? The other kingdoms aren't that big. ... Are they?" he adds uncertainly.

"Currently there are seven, encompassing Europe, Africa and Asia. Well, Australasia, really. Only the Americas are unclaimed," Renard informs him. "All of them are approximately the same size, territory-wise."

"So why is that? I mean, why would they leave parts of the world 'unclaimed'?" Nick sounds curious, thoughtful.

"No reason to claim it, I suppose. Until recently - by royal reckoning, they have a pretty different perception of time - there wasn't much of worth in the Americas. It was inhabited by 'savages' and was generally uncivilized," Renard explains. "Obviously that's not the case, now. Also, things have been in equilibrium - no second children without territory to inherit."

"Until you."

"Until me," Renard agrees, nodding.

"A whole continent? That's pretty ambitious. I don't know if you're up to that kind of commitment," Nick remarks, grinning playfully. "I mean, look at how you act at the local drugstore. I don't feel comfortable entrusting that kind of responsibility to you."

"You gave me your word," Renard points out loftily.

Nick puts a hand on his shoulder. "I know, I know. One more question - well, two more, actually."

"I get the feeling you won't cooperate until I answer you, so just ask," Renard deadpans, leaning slightly into the Grimm's touch before he can stop himself. Nick's grip tightens briefly, and doesn't take his hand away.

"Ok, one: Why did you pick me of all the Grimms out there?"

"There really aren't all that many, first of all. Secondly, I heard that you were reasonable - a lot of Grimms are indiscriminate with their killing," Renard explains.

Nick hums, noncommittal.

"Second question..?" the prince prompts.

"Hm-? Oh, right," Nick says. "You said partnership - what does that entail, exactly?"

"It's simple really," Renard drawls.

Nick raises his eyebrows. "Please elaborate," he deadpans.

"Well, what did you have in mind - the two principalities idea didn't seem to agree with you," Renard points out, smirking.

The Grimm shrugs. "How would that even... I mean, what about the people living here? Suddenly you're just their ruler? That doesn't seem..."

Renard rolls his eyes. Always thinking about others. "I'm sure my rule will be challenged - which is where you can come in. You have a reputation for fairness, and if you're seen as my partner, that could discourage some people. Worse comes to worst, you'd have to help me sort things out."

"I'm being demoted from prince to your enforcer?" Nick complains.

"The proper term is regent."

"Does that mean I get to be in charge if you ever leave?"

"Well, yes. That's what the title implies," Renard deadpans. "And of course, the influence over the ruler that goes along with such a position."

Nick levels a sharp look at him. "Since when have I ever been able to influence you?" he asks flatly. "You never listen to me."

"You weren't my regent," Renard reminds him.

"But I am now," Nick says slowly.

Renard nods.

"Huh."

"Is that it? That's all you have to say?" Renard asks.

"Just... processing," Nick replies. "So, is the kissing thing part of the job description? Because I could get used to that."

And they all lived happily ever after.

* * *

><p>AN: Pretty much crack. Feel free to drop some feedback, should you feel so inclined.


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